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REFLECTIONS -- CHAPTER 5
"I don't know…."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frodo woke up to a cry of pain, and a sudden horror…realizing that it was his voice. His ears twitched as he heard a dull clinking sound coming from all around him. What was it? His mouth was dry and he was tired…so tired..
The last thing he remembered was a foul orc standing above him but no one was with him just now, they had left him when he'd passed out. They'd asked him questions… questions he couldn't answer. Questions he didn't understand.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know…"
"Where is the Precious…"
"I told you…I don't know…I don't know anything…please…I…"
At that moment, he'd blacked out. All around him was that horrid clinking sound, a constant reminder of where he was, even if he shut his eyes he could still hear it. A hammer against stone. Again and Again and Again
He swallowed dismally, when the question was asked yet again.
"I…I don't know…"
He closed his eyes and his mind swam in a sea of images that made little sense. He hung onto the words in his head "Hold On Frodo." as though they were a lifeline. He did not have anything else to hold on to, somehow they were comforting…they were something that made him feel safe even in the depths of the hell in which he found himself.
To his mind came clear now, the voice that spoke them…and the man's face. Dark…tall…blue eyes…and another face…kind and soft with blonde hair…and a firm stocky build.
*** flashback***
He was lying in a forest glade and above him were stone statues of trolls. Blankets were wrapped around him and he was cold…hearing the call of something terrible in his mind. A keening cry that screeched through the night in regular intervals that sent shivers down his spine.
His shoulder was in awful pain.
The man was searching the glade to his left…and…and…at his right he looked up into the face of a kind blonde haired hobbit like him…yes…yes…he was a hobbit. He -remembered- that. Stockier by far, his face edged with worry and concern, his blonde friend spoke softly.
"There now, Mr. Frodo. We've got you wrapped up nice and tight. I've made some mushroom soup…you need to eat something."
He vaguely heard two other voices but his gaze focused upon the one speaking -to- him. "Sam?"
Sam…Sam…the name rang in Frodo's mind.
"I'm not hungry, Sam…Just tired…I want to sleep…"
What was so important about Sam?
He didn't know for sure what was going on, or what was happening to him at the time. Frodo only remembered that he was in terrible pain…and Sam's voice helped to -anchor- him.
Sam cradled the stricken hobbit in his arms soothing gently. "Of course you're hungry, Mr. Frodo. How are you going to get well if you don't have anything inside, hmm?"
Sam…
Frodo gazed up at his friend and wished he could explain, but he was tired, and cold…and he wanted nothing more than to simply close his eyes and not wake up again. Then the pain would end…and he would no longer have to endure.
"Just a few more spoonfulls, Mr. Frodo. You're doing just fine."
Dear Sam…
***end flashback***
If only he was here now…Frodo wouldn't feel so completely alone. Something was biting into his ankles and wrists…rope? Yes, it was being tightened slightly. Not that it was necessary, Frodo didn't have the strength to flee anyway. His strength was centered upon remaining conscious…alive…
Why was it important that he stayed alive?
***flashback***
A beautiful elven lady gazed down at him sadly, her hair was the color of sunlight, spun neatly into long braids and she wore a white silky gown and a golden circlet.
"If you do not complete this task…there is no one else who can. You have been chosen.."
***end flashback***
There had to be someone else, how could he get out of this? He had no strength left…he had come this far…from where…from…
***flashback***
"It is very important that you get out of the Shire, Frodo. They are coming for the Ring…" An old man with a long white beard was smiling sadly at him.
***end Flashback***
The Ring.
That's what the Orcs wanted. They wanted his Ring of Power. Oh…Oh who had it? Where was it? He suddenly felt desire wash over him…enough of it that it brought back his strength from somewhere within his form. Where was his Ring? Who…
Sam
***flashback***
"Its heavy, Sam….I don't think I can go on. Lets just rest here for a minute…"
"Sure you can, Mr. Frodo. Take it one step at a time, here, lean on me."
***end flashback***
Frodo's mind throbbed, the memories were slowly piecing themselves back together, and he was beginning to understand just why they had fallen apart. He had lost the Ring and it had driven him nearly insane.
"Where is the Precious?"
Clearly the words assaulted him, coming from just above, somewhere near. He did not dare open his eyes, he was sure if he did…
"Where is it?"
Frodo cried out in defiance, his eyes snapping open in anger. How dare -they- try and steal his ring? "You can't have it! Its beyond your reach! Its -mine-. I tell you. Mine!" The hobbit thrashed against the ropes, trying with every ounce of strength that he had left to break free…
But in vain.
And he finally remembered….everything…
Though he wished with all his heart that he didn't.
REFLECTIONS -- CHAPTER 5
"I don't know…."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frodo woke up to a cry of pain, and a sudden horror…realizing that it was his voice. His ears twitched as he heard a dull clinking sound coming from all around him. What was it? His mouth was dry and he was tired…so tired..
The last thing he remembered was a foul orc standing above him but no one was with him just now, they had left him when he'd passed out. They'd asked him questions… questions he couldn't answer. Questions he didn't understand.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know…"
"Where is the Precious…"
"I told you…I don't know…I don't know anything…please…I…"
At that moment, he'd blacked out. All around him was that horrid clinking sound, a constant reminder of where he was, even if he shut his eyes he could still hear it. A hammer against stone. Again and Again and Again
He swallowed dismally, when the question was asked yet again.
"I…I don't know…"
He closed his eyes and his mind swam in a sea of images that made little sense. He hung onto the words in his head "Hold On Frodo." as though they were a lifeline. He did not have anything else to hold on to, somehow they were comforting…they were something that made him feel safe even in the depths of the hell in which he found himself.
To his mind came clear now, the voice that spoke them…and the man's face. Dark…tall…blue eyes…and another face…kind and soft with blonde hair…and a firm stocky build.
*** flashback***
He was lying in a forest glade and above him were stone statues of trolls. Blankets were wrapped around him and he was cold…hearing the call of something terrible in his mind. A keening cry that screeched through the night in regular intervals that sent shivers down his spine.
His shoulder was in awful pain.
The man was searching the glade to his left…and…and…at his right he looked up into the face of a kind blonde haired hobbit like him…yes…yes…he was a hobbit. He -remembered- that. Stockier by far, his face edged with worry and concern, his blonde friend spoke softly.
"There now, Mr. Frodo. We've got you wrapped up nice and tight. I've made some mushroom soup…you need to eat something."
He vaguely heard two other voices but his gaze focused upon the one speaking -to- him. "Sam?"
Sam…Sam…the name rang in Frodo's mind.
"I'm not hungry, Sam…Just tired…I want to sleep…"
What was so important about Sam?
He didn't know for sure what was going on, or what was happening to him at the time. Frodo only remembered that he was in terrible pain…and Sam's voice helped to -anchor- him.
Sam cradled the stricken hobbit in his arms soothing gently. "Of course you're hungry, Mr. Frodo. How are you going to get well if you don't have anything inside, hmm?"
Sam…
Frodo gazed up at his friend and wished he could explain, but he was tired, and cold…and he wanted nothing more than to simply close his eyes and not wake up again. Then the pain would end…and he would no longer have to endure.
"Just a few more spoonfulls, Mr. Frodo. You're doing just fine."
Dear Sam…
***end flashback***
If only he was here now…Frodo wouldn't feel so completely alone. Something was biting into his ankles and wrists…rope? Yes, it was being tightened slightly. Not that it was necessary, Frodo didn't have the strength to flee anyway. His strength was centered upon remaining conscious…alive…
Why was it important that he stayed alive?
***flashback***
A beautiful elven lady gazed down at him sadly, her hair was the color of sunlight, spun neatly into long braids and she wore a white silky gown and a golden circlet.
"If you do not complete this task…there is no one else who can. You have been chosen.."
***end flashback***
There had to be someone else, how could he get out of this? He had no strength left…he had come this far…from where…from…
***flashback***
"It is very important that you get out of the Shire, Frodo. They are coming for the Ring…" An old man with a long white beard was smiling sadly at him.
***end Flashback***
The Ring.
That's what the Orcs wanted. They wanted his Ring of Power. Oh…Oh who had it? Where was it? He suddenly felt desire wash over him…enough of it that it brought back his strength from somewhere within his form. Where was his Ring? Who…
Sam
***flashback***
"Its heavy, Sam….I don't think I can go on. Lets just rest here for a minute…"
"Sure you can, Mr. Frodo. Take it one step at a time, here, lean on me."
***end flashback***
Frodo's mind throbbed, the memories were slowly piecing themselves back together, and he was beginning to understand just why they had fallen apart. He had lost the Ring and it had driven him nearly insane.
"Where is the Precious?"
Clearly the words assaulted him, coming from just above, somewhere near. He did not dare open his eyes, he was sure if he did…
"Where is it?"
Frodo cried out in defiance, his eyes snapping open in anger. How dare -they- try and steal his ring? "You can't have it! Its beyond your reach! Its -mine-. I tell you. Mine!" The hobbit thrashed against the ropes, trying with every ounce of strength that he had left to break free…
But in vain.
And he finally remembered….everything…
Though he wished with all his heart that he didn't.